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CHAPMAN 
DESERTS  OF  NEVADA 


BANOtOFT 
LJSRARY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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http://www.archive.org/details/desertsofnevadadOOchaprich 


THE  DESERTS  OF  NEVADA 


AND 


THE  DEATH  VALLEY 


BY 

; 
ROBERT  H.  CHAPMAN 

UNITKD  STATES  GEOI,OGICAI,  SURVEY 


Reprinted  from  the  NATIONAL  GEOGRAPHIC  MAGAZINE,  SEPTEMBER,  1906 


WASHINGTON,   D.  C. 

PRESS  OF  JUDD  4  DETWEII.ER,  INC. 

1906 


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Vol.  XVII,  No.  9 


WASHINGTON 


September,  1906 


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THE    DESERTS    OF    NEVADA    AND    THE 
DEATH   VALLEY* 


"AND  STII.Iv  THE  DESERT  WAITS 

By  Robert  H.   Chapman 

U.  S.  Geological  Survey 


THE  area  lying  to  the  west  and 
southwest  of  Salt  Lake  City  and 
extending  to  the  Sierra  Nevada 
and  the  ranges  east  of  Los  Angeles  was 
for  a  long  time  included  under  the  cap- 
tion "The  Great  American  Desert." 

The  discovery  of  gold  in  California  in 
1849  was  the  beginning  of  the  conquest 
of  this  thirsty  region,  the  direction  of 
greatest  travel  being  but  little  south  of 
west  from  Great  Salt  Lake  to  the  vicinity 
of  the  Donner  Pass  in  the  Sierra  'Nevada, 
since  used  by  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
in  crossing  this  range.  In  seeking  for 
better  routes  to  the  new  El  Dorado,  par- 
ties journeyed  southward  across  the 
wastes  of  sand  and  rock  searching  for 
the  lower  passes  which  would  be  perenni- 
ally available.  In  this  direction  the  num- 
ber of  mountain  ranges  to  be  crossed  is 
largely  increased,  but  by  going  well 
southward  the  great  wall  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  is  escaped,  though  the  desert 
journey  is  very  much  lengthened  and 
the  hardships  encountered  by  many  par- 
ties were  most  appalling. 


The  desert  took  frequent  toll  in  the 
lives  of  man  and  beast,  and  indeed  does 
sometimes  today,  though  the  dangers  are 
now  comparatively  insignificant. 

With  the  discovery  of  the  Comstock 
mines  there  came  a  period  of  tremendous 
activity  in  the  search  for  the  precious 
metals,  more  particularly  for  silver,  and 
much  of  the  desert  region  was  traversed 
by  the  hardy  prospector  and  his  burro. 
In  this  way  the  long  distances  between 
watering  places  were  divided  by  the  dis- 
covery of  springs  and  "tanks"  (natural 
reservoirs),  and  gradually  this  part  of 
the  "American  Desert"  diminished  in  area 
and  lost  some  of  its  fearfulness. 

In  the  6o's  and  1 871 -'72  government 
expeditions  under  Lieut.  George  M. 
Wheeler  traversed  several  routes  across 
the  desert,  making  topographic  sketches 
and  notes  of  interest  and  value,  but  few 
complete  maps  were  printed.  In  1865, 
and  several  times  since  then,  the  bound- 
ary line  between  Nevada  and  California 
was  run,  which  cut  through  much  of  the 
most  difficult  country.     The  reports  of 


*An  address  to  the  National  Geographic  Society,  March  24,  1906, 
of  the  Director  of  the  U.  S.  Geological  Survey. 


Published  by  permission 


484 


The  National  Geographic  Magazine 


and  the  stories  by  members  of  these  ex- 
peditions did  not  tend  to  populate  the 
region  with  great  rapidity. 

In  many  instances  the  prospectors  were 
successful,  and  the  camps  of  Silver  Peak, 
Lida  (or  Allida),  Reveille,  and  others 
sprang  up,  and  had  their  periods  of  rise, 
prosperity,  and  decline,  many  becoming 
completely  uninhabited. 

During  the  period  of  activity  many 
travelers  became  permanent  residents, 
took  to  wife  dusky  maidens  from  the 
Indian  tribes,  and  located  ranches  at 
various  springs  and  streams,  oases  in  the 
expanse  of  waste,  where  small  herds  of 
cattle  or  horses  were  maintained. 

From  the  eastward  the  Mormons 
pushed  gradually  away  from  the  streams 
of  southern  Utah  and  established  farms 
and  ranches  at  such  places  as  furnished 
water,  but  there  is  a  belt  of  country  one 
hundred  miles  or  more  in  width  between 
these  points  and  the  water-fed  valleys  at 
the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  which  is 
almost  wholly  barren  and  very  dry. 

re;ne;wed  interest  in  the  deserts 

During  the  last  few  years,  beginning 
with  the  discovery  of  valuable  ore  at 
Tonopah  (in  May,  1900), the  attack  upon 
the  desert  has  been  renewed  with  great 
vigor  and  earnestness,  and  the  efforts  of 
the  seeker  of  Fortune  met  with  so  much 
success  and  at  such  widely  separated 
points  that  it  was  decided  by  the  officers 
of  the  Geological  Survey  to  put  parties  in 
the  field  to  make  a  reconnaissance  of 
some  of  the  unmapped  desert  area. 

The  area  where  work  was  done  lies 
about  200  miles  southeast  of  Carson  City, 
about  350  miles  southwest  of  Salt  Lake, 
and  250  miles  northeast  of  Los  Angeles. 
It  comprises  about  8,600  square  miles 
and  has  a  great  range  in  elevation;  the 
highest  point  reached  is  9,500  feet  above 
and  the  lowest  about  300  feet  below  the 
level  of  the  sea. 

The  idea  of  the  person  unacquainted 
with  American  deserts  is  of  a  great  plain, 
sand-covered  or  rock-littered,  with  noth- 
ing to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  hori- 
zon.    As  a  matter  of  fact,  these  great 


areas  include  mountain  ranges,  high 
plateaux,  mesas,  and  buttes,  extensive 
valleys,  that  in  the  clear  air  seem  but  a 
short  distance  across.  Many  of  these 
valleys  are  "closed" — have  no  outlet — 
and  the  lowest  pass  from  one  to  another 
is  often  many  hundred  feet  above  the  val- 
ley floor.  The  flowing  streams  are  very 
few,  the  springs  far  between,  and  water 
a  commodity  for  which  men  search,  often 
with  life  at  stake. 

The  map  includes  an  area,  almost 
equal  to  the  total  area  of  Delaware  and 
Rhode  Island,  of  3,000  square  miles  that 
is  waterless  except  for  small  holes  that 
may  be  filled  by  occasional  rains. 

LIFE    IN    GOLDFIEED,    NEVADA 

In  entering  the  desert  area  the  party 
traveled  by  rail  to  Tonopah,  and  thence 
by  auto  to  Goldfield,  which  a  short  time 
ago  was  but  a  cluster  of  tents,  and  here 
headquarters  camp  was  established.  The 
town  lies  at  an  elevation  of  5,700  feet,  in 
a  basin  between  the  foot  of  Columbia 
Mountain  and  a  mesa  edge  several  hun- 
dred feet  high.  The  immediate  vicinity 
is  not  of  great  ruggedness,  differences 
of  800  feet  being  extreme,  though  eight 
miles  westward  the  Montezuma  Peak 
rises  to  a  height  of  8,400  feet  above  sea. 

Since  January,  1905,  the  town,  together 
with  its  sister,  Columbia,  has  "boomed" 
and  quieted,  and  been  "born  again"  to  a 
steady,  healthy  growth.  The  demands  of 
business  are  such  as  to  warrant  the  erec- 
tion of  substantial  buildings  of  wood  and 
stone ;  there  is  at  least  one  church,  an 
ice  plant,  swimming  pool,  a  brewery,  a 
club ;  pipe  lines  bring  water  from  distant 
springs,  and  there  are  the  numerous 
sources  of  amusement  common  to  all  new 
mining  camps ;  every  bar  and  hotel  has 
its  roulette  wheel  and  corps  of  players, 
"cappers,"  etc.  Here  one  may  eat  most 
of  the  dainties  of  the  season — fruits  from 
California,  vegetables  from  Utah,  fresh 
meat  from  Chicago ;  he  may  drink  almost 
any  brand  of  wine  or  any  mixture  of 
liquors  to  be  found  anywhere,  while  se- 
lections from  the  latest  operas  are  ren- 
dered on  violins  and  piano.     One  meets 


The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


485 


men  from  every  part  of  the  globe — 
prospectors  from  Alaska,  mining  en- 
gineers from  London  and  Africa,  busi- 
ness men  from  every  large  city,  and  the 
burros,  "angels"  of  the  desert,  are  uni- 
versally present.  There  are  numerous 
mines  producing  ore,  some  of  which  is 
shipped  for  treatment,  some  crushed  in 
local  "custom"  mills,  and  some  by  mills 
controlled  and  operated  by  the  owners  of 
the  mines.  (Gasoline  is  used  for  power 
in  most  cases ;  wood  retails  at  $18.00  per 
cord.) 

Insurance  is  unknown,  regular  com- 
panies declining  the  risk.  On  a  windy 
day  in  July  (8th,  1905)  a  fire  was  started 
which  destroyed  several  blocks  of  tents 
and  buildings.  It  is  a  matter  of  interest 
that  at  least  one  building  was  saved  by 
using  beer  to  prevent  its  igniting;  the 
bottles  were  thrown  against  the  building 
as  modern  grenades  are  used.  One  week 
later  the  town  of  Columbia  was  severely 
damaged  by  fire,  the  roaring  flames,  fly- 
ing sparks,  with  pyrotechnic  explosions 
of  dynamite,  making  a  scene  to  be  re- 
membered. 

It  is  the  dustiest  vicinity  I  have  seen, 
and  when  one  of  the  many  "twisters" 
(cyclones  often  of  no  mean  proportion) 
strikes  one,  he  can  only  "shut  up"  every- 
thing about  himself  and  do  no  breathing 
until  it  goes  by. 

Provisions  are  high  priced  and  hay 
worth  2  cents  to  3  cents  per  pound. 

With  the  advent  of  the  railroad  in 
Goldfield,  and  from  this  point  to  outlying 
camps,  the  means  of  transportation  is 
varied — for  the  passenger  the  modern 
high-power  automobile  or  the  more 
primitive  stage-coach.  For  freight  sup- 
plies of  all  kinds  for  man  and  beast, 
traction  engines  hauling  trains  of  wag- 
ons, or  several  coupled  wagons  drawn  by 
six  to  eighteen  horses  or  mules,  are  used. 

Nowhere  in  the  world  can  one  find 
greater  contrasts  than  in  this  region.  But 
a  few  miles  from  town  one  may  ride  or 
drive  for  hours — perhaps  days — without 
meeting  a  human  being,  his  eyes  aching 
with  the  brazen  glare  and  the  monotony 
of    the    billowing    hills    and    mountains, 


which  hours  of  travel  seem  to  bring  no 
nearer. 

THE    STONEWALL    FLAT 

From  Goldfield  the  work  of  mapping 
takes  us  to  the  eastward,  away  from  the 
auto  and  freight  roads  to  Bullfrog  and 
the  southern  camps.  Across  the  Stone- 
wall flat — a  great  inclosed  valley,  with 
its  playa  bottom  of  baked  mud  as  hard 
and  as  smooth  as  concrete  and  as  white 
as  snow — to  the  Cactus  Range,  which 
extends  in  a  northwest-southeast  direc- 
tion, with  a  rugged  rock  cone  at  the  north 
end,  known  as  Cactus  Peak,  which  is  a 
landmark  for  an  area  of  a  thousand 
square  miles.  An  example  of  the  useless- 
ness  of  the  maps  of  the  region  is  here  ap- 
parent ;  all  these  show  the  Cactus  Peak  to 
be  to  the  south  of  Cactus  Spring,  which 
is  the  first  water  east  of  and  25  miles 
from  Goldfield,  while  in  reality  the  water 
is  eight  miles  south  of  the  mountain. 
This  spring  we  find  to  be  high  in  the 
range,  and  in  this  it  is  typical.  Palatable 
water  is  seldom  found  in  the  flats  or  val- 
leys unless  sought  by  wells  of  consider- 
able depth ( 100  to  200  feet).  This  range  is 
made  up  of  a  series  of  volcanic  flows,  and 
near  the  Cactus  Spring  we  find  a  fine  ex- 
ample of  basalt  or  rhyolite,  columnar  struc- 
ture, lying  like  cordwood  beside  the  road. 

The  Cactus  Range  is  separated  from 
the  Kawich  Range  by  a  great  valley,  like 
that  of  Stonewall,  long  slopes  of  gravel 
and  drift  reaching  from  the  ranges  to 
the  flats  in  the  middle,  which,  as  looked 
upon  during  the  day,  swing,  rise  and  fall, 
in  hazy  heat  waves  like  the  billows  of 
the  sea.  Toward  the  north  end  of  the 
Kawich  Range,  at  the  new  townsite  of 
Silverbow,  we  find  a  stream  of  running 
water,  and  we  push  on  to  get  above  the 
camp  and  pitch  our  tents  below  the 
ragged  clififs. 

At  Silverbow  and  vicinity  there  are 
several  hundred  men,  a  few  women,  many 
good  prospects,  and  much  hope.  The 
place  is  about  as  comfortable  as  any  in 
the  region,  but  desert  prices  prevail ;  hay 
is  worth  $80.00  per  ton  in  bulk  and  grain 
$5.00  per  sack  (of  75  pounds). 


486 


The  National  Geographic  Magazine 


•  Tonopah 


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The  Death  Valley  Region,  Nevada 


The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


487 


To  the  east  is  the  trail  to  "Eden," 
which  we  follow,  crossing  the  Kawich 
Range,  the  highest  peak  of  which  is  9,500 
feet. 

From  the  pass  we  look  along  the  sum- 
mit, which  is  flat  and  broad — the  rem- 
nant of  an  old  surface  which  has  been 
much  eroded.  We  find  the  "town"  to  be 
a  scattering  lot  of  tents,  but  aptly  named, 
for  there  is  a  small  creek  of  running 
water,  green,  fresh  grass,  willows  and 
small  Cottonwood  trees,  rose  bushes, 
ferns,  and  grateful  shade.  The  first 
man  we  greet  states  his  name  to  be 
Adam(s),  and  asks  us  if  we  have  seen 
any  snakes,  of  which  he  assures  us  there 
are  plenty,  but  Eve  and  apples  we  do  not 
find. 

The  prospectors  here  show  us  claims, 
some  having  ores  of  gold  and  others  of 
rich  silver.  We  spend  some  days  in  map- 
ping this  country  and  examining  the 
rocks,  and  then  take  up  our  journey 
southward  along  the  range,  which  is  usu- 
ally supplied  with  timber,  springs,  and 
grass.  Here  there  are  numerous  bands 
of  horses,  some  of  them  wild,  others  ac- 
quiring wildness,  and  in  turn  endeavor- 
ing to  thrust  wildness  upon  the  beasts  of 
the  traveler  (three  of  ours  strayed  and  are 
not  even  yet  recovered).  At  one  spring 
seven  dead  animals  are  found,  killed  by 
the  shots  of  the  stock-owners,  who  wish 
the  water  for  beasts  of  use  and  value. 
Like  the  Cactus,  this  range  is  largely 
made  up  of  volcanic  flows. 

We  cross  the  Kawich  Range  on  the 
pass  above  the  "Wild  Rose"  Spring,  and 
camp  at  the  Sumner  Spring,  where  there 
is  water  and  wood,  and  after  removing 
various  rats,  gophers,  and  insects  from 
the  spring,  we  are  well  located,  with  a 
beautiful  view  of  the  Reveille  Range, 
which  rises  3,000  feet  above  the  valley  to 
the  eastward.  In  the  desert  it  is  very 
difficult  to  get  satisfactory  photographs — 
the  distances  are  so  great  that  the  pic- 
ture may  include  a  whole  range,  miles 
away  and  several  thousand  feet  high,  but 
there  is  nothing  to  give  scale  to  the 
view — nothing  by  which  one  can  measure 
it.     In  the  Reveille  and  adjacent  valleys 


antelope  are  sometimes  seen,  but  animal 
life  is  not  abundant. 

From  Sumner  Spring  we  journey  by 
buckboard  to  the  Reveille  Range,  which 
is  crossed  by  the  steepest  wagon  road  I 
have  ever  seen.  Over  this  road  the  ores 
from  the  mining  camp,  Old  Reveille, 
were  hauled  to  the  mill  in  the  valley,  16 
miles  away. 

At  the  top  of  the  mountain  we  look 
across  another  rolling  summit  of  volcanic 
rocks ;  near  by  are  a  few  buildings,  a  new 
boarding  house,  and  several  wooden 
shelters.  Here  "outside"  capital  is  in- 
terested in  the  development  of  "pros- 
pects;" the  water  is  hauled  four  miles, 
from  the  spring  at  the  "Old  Camp," 
which  thirty  years  ago  was  a  busy  town, 
but  now  going  to  decay. 

Horses  and  mules  unaccustomed  to 
the  region  are  afraid  of  the  deserts,  and 
it  is  often  very  difficult  to  get  them 
started  over  an  unknown  road  when  leav- 
ing a  good  campground  behind ;  a  nerve- 
wrecking  delay  may  follow  and  heroic 
measures  become  necessary.  Some  of  our 
animals  lay  "hog  tied"  in  the  cooking 
sun  for  hours  before  proceeding  over  a 
new  route. 

KAWICH — A  GOLD  CAMP 

While  the  northern  end  of  the  Kawich 
Range  is  well  supplied  with  water,  grass, 
and  trees,  the  southern  part  is  dry  and 
barren.  Here,  about  80  miles  from  Gold- 
field,  at  the  foot  of  Quartzite  Mountain, 
some  of  the  ledges  of  rhyolite  which 
show  through  the  drift  carry  gold,  and 
as  this  is  the  magician  that  turns  a  deso- 
late waste  into  a  semblance  of  civiliza- 
tion, we  find  a  camp,  complete,  yet  lack- 
ing everything.  The  description  of  an 
investor  from  Italy  I  quote:  "Kawich  is 
a  h — 11  of  a  place !  No  mines,  no  water, 
no  feed,  no  women,"  which  discloses  one 
point  of  view. 

The  water  is  hauled  by  team  from  Cliflf 
Springs,  12  miles  away,  making  a  jour- 
ney of  25  miles  a  day  to  keep  the  town 
from  drying  up,  and  is  sold  at  $3.00  per 
barrel.  (Extensive  bathing  is  not  gen- 
erally practiced.)      If  this  spring  fails, 


488 


The  National  Geographic  Magazine 


the  wagons  go  to  the  Wild  Rose  Spring, 
1 6  miles  distant. 

At  the  Gold  Reed  Mine  we  see  some 
very  beautiful  gold  ore ;  the  metal  occurs 
in  a  ledge  of  rhyolite  which  is  highly 
silicified,  and  there  is  so  much  of  it  that 
none  need  ask  to  see  it. 

The  Belted  Range  lies  east  of  the 
Kawich  Valley.  It  is  composed  of  vol- 
canic rocks,  which  weather  in  clifif  forms 
i;hat  are  very  beautiful,  many  reaching 
1,500  feet  in  height.  Many  rocks  show 
-columnar  structure,  horizontal,  curved, 
iind  vertical,  when  looked  at  more  closely. 

The  valley  at  Kawich  extends  south- 
ward many  miles,  and  then  rises  to  a 
high  table-land  which  breaks  abruptly  to 
the  south,  forming  a  mesa  front.  To  the 
eastward  the  Belted  Range  runs  about 
north  and  south,  and  where  it  joins  the 
mesa  land  the  Oak  Spring  lies.  A  butte 
known  as  Oak  Spring  Butte  rises  just 
north  of  this  water — a  landmark ;  it  is  at 
once  an  aggravation  and  a  comfort  to  the 
traveler,  as  he  can  see  it  for  miles,  and 
journey  apparently  toward  it,  circle 
around  it,  but  not  reach  it. 

Oak  Springs  is  about  sixty  miles  by 
wagon  road  from  Kawich,  with  but  one 
small  spring  between  and  a  road  heavy 
with  sand.  It  is  a  wearying  journey  at 
best,  and  men  and  animals  are  glad  in- 
deed when  camp  is  pitched.  Here  there 
are  prospects  of  gold  and  of  copper; 
azurite  fine  enough  to  be  cut  and  set  in 
jewelry  is  found,  and  some  of  it  has  been 
shipped  for  that  purpose. 

From  the  top  of  the  Oak  Spring 
Butte  a  panorama  of  interest  unfolds  :  To 
the  west  and  north  the  high  plateau 
region,  besprinkled  with  scattering  cedar 
and  pifion  trees,  cut  by  sharp-walled 
canyons,  and  limited  by  the  backbone  of 
the  Belted  Range  is  one  of  the  most  arid 
parts  of  the  desert.  To  the  east  and 
south  is  the  long  sweep  of  an  unnamed 
valley,  the  slopes  of  drift  reaching  from 
rock-walled  range  to  the  white  enamel 
lake  bed  far  in  the  distance.  Across  this 
valley  we  journey.  The  road,  often  sandy 
and  slow,  is  relieved  by  stretches  hard 
and  smooth,  which  are  in  themselves  a 
rest  to  horse  and  rider.     In  the  bottom 


we  find  a  great  tank  of  water;  it  resem- 
bles a  stream  without  flow,  head,  or 
mouth.  The  water  surface  is  perhaps 
200  yards  long,  2  to  5  yards  wide,  and 
has  a  maximum  depth  of  3  feet.  We  are 
fortunate  in  that  a  fierce  thunderstorm 
with  heavy  rain  passed  a  day  or  so  before 
and  filled  this  reservoir,  which  had  been 
dry  for  months,  to  overflowing.  The 
water  is  already  dark  brown  and  alkaline, 
but  we  fill  every  canteen  and  barrel  and 
journey  onward  for  the  next  permanent 
water. 

The  road  rises  slowly  to  pass  between 
low  buttes,  and  we  find  ourselves  sur- 
rounded by  giant  yucca,  or  Joshua,  trees ; 
some  of  them  are  large  and  spreading, 
but  give  little  more  shade  than  a  barbed- 
wire  fence. 

When  we  reach  the  Cane  Spring,  one 
of  the  watering  places  on  the  old  emigrant 
road — when  to  reach  it  from  the  north 
a  dry  journey  of  70  miles  was  neces- 
sary— it  has  taken  us  three  days  from 
Oak  Springs,  and  the  distance  is  not 
more  than  35  miles.  Here  the  tired, 
emaciated  horses  rest,  wander  in  the 
barren  hills  seeking  grass  and  finding 
sage  brush,  greasewood,  and  creosote 
bush. 

Grain,  which  should  have  reached  us, 
has  not  come,  and  we  are  distressed  and 
worried  lest  more  animals  die  and  leave 
us  stranded.  We  estimate  it  is  40  miles 
to  the  nearest  hay — at  a  stage  station  on 
the  freight  road  from  Las  Vegas  to  Bull- 
frog. We  choose  a  light  wagon,  the  four 
freshest  animals,  and  succeed  in  getting 
back  with  a  few  bales  in  time  to  keep  our 
bony  quadrupeds  from  starvation. 

For  many  weeks  we  have  been  skirting 
the  edge  of  the  area  indicated  as  dry.  It 
has  been  necessary  to  make  small  shelter 
camps  far  within  the  area  and  to  haul 
water  many  miles  across  the  trackless 
flats. 

There  are  quite  a  number  of  animals 
that  leave  tracks  and  marks  near  the 
water-holes.  During  certain  months 
thousands  of  wild  doves  flock  from  desert 
flat  or  bench  land  to  spring  or  tank. 
These  flights  and  rabbit  trails  converg- 
ing toward  a  single  point  are  of  great  as- 


The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


489 


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490  The  National  Geographic  Magazine 


Photo  by  Robert  H.  Chapman 


Marble  Canyon 
Route  of  old  trail  to  Owens  Lake  Valley 


The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


491 


sistance  to  one  in  search  of  water.  Hu- 
mans use  many  devices — usually  heaps 
of  stones  or  cairns  or  small  sticks  placed 
as  pointers ;  these  may  be  of  great  com- 
fort or  encouragement,  though  if  the  tank 
proves  dried  up,  or  to  have  been  emptied 
by  some  wandering  prospector  to  save 
his  burros  and  fill  his  canteen,  much  dis- 
tress and  anxiety  may  follow. 

From  the  Cane  Spring  we  turn  west- 
ward, and  the  Grapevine  Range  before 
us  rises  3,000  feet  from  the  Amargosa 
Desert — a  great  sand  dune,  long  a  land- 
mark to  the  traveler  from  Ash  Meadows 
to  Beatty  Ranch — stands  in  the  desert, 
which  has  heretofore  claimed  more  than 
one  victim.  Before  turning  our  faces 
toward  Death  Valley  we  proceed  across 
the  sloping  plane  to  Bullfrog  to  replenish 
our  food,  overhaul  our  outfit,  tighten 
water  barrels,  repair  canteens,  and  ar- 
range for  forage  which  is  to  be  hauled  to 
us. 

The  towns  of  Bullfrog  and  Rhyolite 
are  practically  one,  while  Beatty  is  four 
miles  east.  The  latter  is  situated  on  the 
Amargosa  River,  a  small  stream,  but 
usually  one  has  to  dig  to  find  it.  I  can 
give  no  figures  as  to  population,  for 
the  inhabitants  in  most  camps  are  a 
drifting  lot — there  may  be  many  hun- 
dred, even  a  few  thousand,  one  day,  and 
soon  afterward  but  a  handful,  as  new 
strikes  are  made  in  outlying  districts.  At 
Bullfrog  we  find  rendezvous  camp  which 
has  been  brought  from  Goldfield;  as  we 
pass  up  the  street  we  find  the  omnipresent 
tent,  a  few  adobes,  and  one  house  built  of 
beer  bottles  set  in  mud.  (These  mate- 
rials are  the  only  inexpensive  ones  to  be 
had.)  At  the  head  of  the  street  rises 
Busch  Mountain,  one  of  the  many  peaks 
surrounding  the  camp,  its  sides  scarred 
with  the  waste  from  prospect  holes.  One 
of  our  first  experiences  is  to  take  a  swim 
in  a  tank  of  goodly  proportions  fed  by 
clear  green  water  brought  many  miles  in 
pipes.  It  is  useless  to  try  to  express  the 
joy  and  delight  which  comes  in  sporting 
and  romping  in  the  water,  while  parched 
bodies  absorb  the  fluid  until  we  are  ex- 
hilarated as  by  a  strong  stimulant.     It  is 


our  first  wetting  in — I  blush  to  say  how 
long !  At  Beatty  we  find  a  modern  hotel 
with  a  wonderful  variety  of  refreshment, 
solid  and  fluid,  served  to  a  nicety,  includ- 
ing hammered-brass  finger  bowls,  by 
men  in  conventional  black  evening 
clothes. 

We  look  southward  across  the  Amar- 
gosa Desert,  stretching  farther  and  far- 
ther until  lost  in  the  blue  and  amber  of 
miles  of  heat  with  glittering  sand  and 
mud  flats,  flanked  by  the  Bare  and  the 
Grapevine  ranges,  with  the  high  peaks  of 
the  Funeral  Range  appearing  beyond. 

From  Bullfrog  the  route  lies  across  an 
extension  of  the  Amargosa  Desert  to  the 
Grapevine  Range,  to  reach  which  we  pass 
from  arid  Nevada  into  California,  which 
here  is  hardly  so  luxuriant  in  foliage  as 
its  reputation  might  lead  a  stranger  to 
anticipate,  and  at  a  boundary-line  post  set 
up  for  work. 

THE  DEATH  VALLEY 

Twelve  miles  southwest  camp  is  made 
at  the  Daylight  Springs,  on  the  crest  of 
the  divide  between  the  Amargosa  Desert 
and  Death  Valley.  We  journey  to  one 
of  the  high  peaks  of  the  Grapevine  and 
look  into  the  "Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,"  as  desolate  a  view  as  may  be 
found. 

In  the  distance  the  Telescope  Range 
rises  to  an  elevation  of  nearly  11,000  feet, 
while  at  our  feet  the  salt-white  plain  is 
more  than  6,000  feet  below  us  and  well 
below  sea-level.  The  flat  is  25  miles 
away,  and  on  its  borders  not  a  vestige  of 
vegetation  appears.  The  valley  was 
named  Death  Valley  from  the  loss  of 
members  of  parties  of  emigrants  who  at- 
tempted to  pass  through  it  in  1849,  ^^^ 
since  then  a  number  of  persons  have  been 
lost,  keeping  up  the  sinister  record  as  a 
graveyard,  but  the  appalling  stories  of  the 
number  of  persons  perishing  there  each 
year  are  exaggerated.  It  is  not  safe  to 
go  into  Death  Valley  for  active  work 
during  July,  August,  and  September,, 
though  there  are  persons  who  remain 
there  all  summer;  but  in  October  we 
journey  from  Daylight  Spring  down  hill. 


492 


The  National  Geographic  Magazine 


mile  upon  mile.  A  sign  painted  upon  a 
box  lid  stuck  into  a  pile  of  stones  gives  us 
the  cheerful  assurance  that  we  may  be 
well  provided  for  if  we  are  found ;  it 
reads  :  "Rhyolite  Undertaking  Company, 
funeral    directors   and   embalmers." 

The  canyon  walls  rise  above  us,  not 
high,  but  sharp  and  steep,  and  it  is  only 
by  turning  and  looking  backward  that  we 
appreciate  the  greatness  of  the  range  we 
have  crossed.  The  grade  is  easy,  the  road 
wide,  sandy  and  gravelly,  our  horses 
grow  weary  and  move  with  deliberation ; 
all  are  oppressed  with  the  feeling  of 
weariness  and  lassitude. 

We  ride  from  the  canyon  mouth  to  the 
edge  of  a  sandy  plain,  and  here,  115  feet 
below  sea-level,  find  a  couple  of  holes,  5 
feet  in  diameter  and  about  as  deep,  with 
two  feet  of  water  in  them.  This  is  the 
"Stovepipe"  Spring,  so  named  from  the 
fact  that  it  was  long  marked  by  a  section 
or  two  of  that  useful  flue,  placed  up- 
right, to  inform  the  wayfarer  where  to 
dig  when  the  holes  had  been  filled  by 
drifting  sands  hurled  forward  by  the  fu- 
rious gales,  burying  deeper  and  deeper  all 
vestiges  of  the  water  so  necessary  to  life 
itself.  We  are  indeed  in  the  Valley ; 
around  us  the  sand  drifts  in  little  sheets ; 
here  and  there  a  surface  of  broken  and 
ragged  saline  material,  hard  and  as  rough 
as  though  made  of  giant  saws  set  with 
teeth  edge  up. 

We  turn  to  the  eastward ;  in  the  fore- 
ground the  gritty  beds  of  conglomerate 
and  hard  clays  show  as  low  hills  backed 
by  the  ragged  cliflFs  of  the  Grapevine, 
banded,  rugged  and  grim.  To  the  north- 
ward the  cliflfs  and  peaks  guard  this  val- 
ley of  desolation,  the  long  delta  fans  of 
drift  material  spreading  like  great  hands 
from  the  mouth  of  each  canyon,  burying 
from  sight  all  vestige  of  the  underlying 
rock,  each  a  silent  witness  of  the  cloud- 
"bursts,  which  sometimes  come  roaring 
■down  the  rock-bound  clefts,  to  spread 
and  evaporate  like  magic  in  the  fierce 
rays  of  the  sun.  The  farthest  fan  marks 
the  mouth  of  Titus  Canyon,  named  for 
the  young  Coloradan  who  left  Bullfrog 
about  the  time  we  reached  Goldfield,  and 


perished  in  its  lower  reaches  seeking  life, 
as  attested  by  the  message  penciled  upon 
a  sliver  of  stick  broken  from  a  provision 
box  and  left  sticking  in  the  sand  for  the 
guidance  of  his  companion :  "Have  gone 
down  canyon  looking  for  the  spring; 
have  been  waiting  for  you. — TiTus.''  His 
remains  were  found ;  those  of  the  friend 
are  still  resting  undiscovered. 

Across  the  flat  we  journey,  our  light 
vehicle  loaded  to  its  limit  with  food, 
forage,  and  water,  the  mules  weary  be- 
fore starting. 

Dunes  surround  us,  20  to  30  feet  high, 
representing  the  struggle  of  plant  life  to 
keep  its  branches  above  the  accumulating 
drift  and  its  roots  near  enough  water. 
The  victory  is  eventually  with  the  sand, 
into  which  wheels  and  hoofs  sink  nearly 
a  foot,  or  when  a  harder  surface  is  found 
it  breaks  like  crusted  snow,  letting  the 
beasts  into  a  soft  substance  which  they 
dislike  exceedingly.  Through  such 
ground  we  can  move  but  a  few  yards 
without  stopping. 

In  places  great  boulders  obstruct  the 
trail,  among  them  the  wagon  must  twist 
and  turn  through  the  fickle  and  shifting 
sands  which  often  hide  all  signs  of  previ- 
ous travel. 

About  25  miles  southward  from  the 
Stovepipe  Spring,  Furnace  Creek  flows 
from  the  lower  part  of  a  large  wash 
which  heads  in  the  Grapevine  Range. 
Here  is  one  of  the  properties  of  the  Pa- 
cific Coast  Borax  Company,  which  years 
ago  constructed  small  irrigating  ditches, 
sowed  hay  and  planted  trees,  built  houses, 
and  established  a  plant  for  the  treat- 
ment of  the  salts  in  the  flat  near  by. 

At  225  feet  below  sea-level  are  about 
100  acres  of  emerald-like  fields,  long 
rows  of  fig  trees,  and  abundant  running 
water,  while  behind  the  frowning  cliffs 
and  sharp  peaks  of  the  Funeral  Range 
gviard  the  valley  from  the  advance  of  the 
treasure-hunter  from  the  east. 

The  borax  plant  is  now  idle,  though 
the  valuable  beds  are  still  owned  by  the 
company,  which  maintains  a  resident 
superintendent  or  foreman.  The  white 
flat  which  we  saw  from  the  mountain  is 


The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


493 


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The  National  Geographic  Magazine 


The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


495 


composed  largely  of  salt,  *  borax,  and 
gypsum.  The  surface  is  as  rough  as  can 
be  imagined ;  it  consists  of  ridges,  blocks, 
and  plates  on  edge,  inclined,  and  flat,  with 
shallow  drains  full  of  dreadfully  salt 
water.  From  these  drains  the  mixture 
of  salt  and  other  material  is  taken, 
molded  into  forms,  and  set  up  at  various 
places  to  mark  the  corners  of  the  mineral 
claims.  This  material  dries  out,  and, 
when  the  molds  are  removed,  stands  like 
solid  marble  blocks,  which  remind  one 
of  the  fate  of  Lot's  wife.  Here  we  are 
informed  that  during  the  summer  the 
temperature  reaches  more  than  130  de- 
grees in  the  shade,  and  that  the  nights 
are  too  hot  for  sleeping,  but  during  our 
visit  in  November  the  weather  was  beau- 
tiful except  during  the  fierce  sandstorms. 

Much  of  the  real  development  in  Death 
Valley  has  been  done  by  the  parties  in- 
terested in  borax,  which  is  found  here 
and  in  many  parts  of  the  desert  region. 
The  "cotton-ball"  (borate  of  soda)  is 
found  in  the  flats,  but  "colemanite" 
(borate  of  lime)  is  found  in  the  hills 
and  mountains,  high  above  the  flats  of 
the  valley  bottoms.  At  one  time  it  was 
attempted  to  refine  borax  at  Furnace 
Creek,  but  no  work  of  gathering  or 
treating  is  now  done  there.  The  freight 
teams  of  the  company  bring  provisions 
■every  few  months.  From  here  the  now- 
famous  20-mule  team  hauled  to  Mojave; 
such  teams  are  often  seen  along  the  lines 
of  communication  in  the  desert,  but  few 
have  so  many  animals  or  such  heavy 
wagons. 

There  is  one  way  to  become  famous  in 
Death  Valley — that  is,  to  die  near  to  a 
trail  so  that  one's  remains  may  be  found. 
For  instance,  meeting  a  man  one  day,  I 
inquired  about  the  route,  water,  etc.  He 
said :    "The  road  is  plain  for  ten  miles, 

*Chloride  sodium 94-54 

Chloride  potassium 0.31 

Sulphate  sodium  3.53 

Sulphate  calcium 0.79 

Moisture  o.  14 

Gypsum  and  clay 0.50 

99.81 
U.  S.  Geol.  Survey  Bull.  200,  p.  18. 


when  you'll  find  a  well  about  100  yards 
to  the  right;  the  water  is  salt,  but  your 
mules  will  drink  it.  Six  miles  farther 
you'll  come  to  'Tim  Ryan,  Aug.  9th,  '05,' 
and  two  and  one-half  miles  southeast  of 
him  you'll  find  plenty  of  good  water." 

From  the  valley  where,  even  now  in 
November,  the  temperature  is  between 
80  and  90  during  the  day,  we  cross  to  the 
Panamint  Range.  At  the  mouth  of  Cot- 
tonwood Canyon  we  halt  for  lunch,  hav- 
ing covered  eight  miles  during  the  morn- 
ing, and  find  numerous  hieroglyphics  on 
the  walls.  These  illustrate  Indians  fight- 
ing over  water,  and  depict  a  running 
stream,  the  bighorn  sheep,  and  various 
animals  and  birds. 

Twelve  miles  up  this  wash  we  find  Cot- 
tonwood trees,  some  grass,  a  running 
stream,  and  quantities  of  watercress, 
which  the  mules  attack  with  evident 
relish.  Here  we  find  numerous  pros- 
pectors, learn  of  an  abandoned  camp  to 
the  north,  and  water  and  trails  every- 
where. 

In  the  Grapevine  and  Panamint  ranges 
there  are  still  a  few  mountain  sheep. 
Tracks  near  water-holes  and  a  few  old 
skulls  are  the  nearest  we  come  to  a  view 
of  these  shy  animals. 

To  the  northward  we  follow  along  the 
range,  often  in  sight  of  our  valley  camp 
miles  away,  and  48  hours  after  leaving 
the  summit  of  the  valley  we  are  camp- 
ing 9,000  feet  above  it,  wading  in  snow 
varying  from  ankle  to  waist  deep,  with 
shoes  and  stockings  frozen  hard,  the 
thermometer  near  0° ,  and  a  cruel  wind — 
a  most  trying  change  for  man  and  beast. 

In  the  Panamint  Range  both  sedimen- 
tary and  volcanic  rocks  appear,  and  near 
one  of  the  contacts  of  these  we  travel  up 
a  wonderful  canyon.  The  walls  are  so 
near  to  one  another  that  on  horseback 
one  may  touch  both  at  once.  The  ma- 
terial is  limestone  that  has  been  baked 
into  marble  of  alternate  beds  of  black 
and  white,  about  a  foot  in  thickness.  This 
trail  is  one  of  the  old  Indian  routes  to  the 
Valley  from  Keeler  and  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vada. 

From  the   summits   of  the   Panamint 


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The  Deserts  of  Nevada 


497 


Range  we  look  into  the  Panamint  Valley. 
Similar  to  Death  Valley  in  form,  but  a 
little  higher  in  elevation,  the  floor  is  6,000 
feet  below  the  mountain  tops  and  about 
1,000  feet  above  sea. 

Death  Valley  is  by  no  means  the  driest 
of  the  regions  traversed,  but  the  heat 
and  heretofore  the  inaccessibility  have 
made  it  difficult.  In  the  mountains  flank- 
ing it  are  numerous  springs  and  frequent 
water-holes  which,  though  dry  in  summer 
through  excessive  evaporation,  are  avail- 
able during  the  fall  and  winter.  There 
are  many  springs  that  are  credited  as 
poison  water;  one  of  these  we  sampled, 
but  unfortunately  the  bottles  were  broken 
before  analysis  could  be  made.  In  my 
opinion,  there  are  springs  in  which 
arsenic  is  present,  but  most  cases  of  sick- 
ness or  death  are  probably  due  to  drink- 
ing excessive  quantities  at  one  time,  fol- 
lowed by  physical  exertion  in  the  heat. 
Such  springs  as  the  Indians  will  not  use 
are  better  left  alone  or  used  in  extreme 
moderation,  by  no  means  an  easy  thing 
for  one  throat-parched  and  speechless  for 
need  of  water.  Each  spring  is  a  source 
of  supply  for  flocks  of  birds,  many  of 
which  are  very  tame. 

The  desert  region  is  being  rapidly  in- 
vaded by  the  various  transportation  com- 
panies, replacing  the  primitive  methods. 
The  Tonopah  and  Tidewater  Railroad  is 
building  from  Ludlow,  on  the  Santa  Fe 
Railroad,  through  the  Amargosa  Desert, 
to  the  mines  at  Bullfrog,  with  connections 


to  the  borax  mines  en  route.  The  railway 
from  Las  Vegas,  on  the  San  Pedro  Rail- 
road, to  Bullfrog  is  under  construction. 
These  roads  plan  to  run  through  to 
Tonopah,  which  will  make  prospecting 
much  easier  and  less  expensive,  give  a 
stimulus  to  the  production  and  shipment 
of  ores,  and  make  profitable  properties 
that  would  be  practically  valueless  with- 
out them ;  they  will  lessen  to  a  great  ex- 
tent the  difficulties  of  travel.  With  these 
and  other  changes  the  desert  will  repay 
many  fold  those  who  seek  its  treasures 
of  gold,  silver,  and  lesser  metals  and 
materials. 

The  traveler  in  the  deserts  should  be 
sound  in  heart,  kidneys,  and  liver;  have 
calm  judgment;  obtain  all  information 
possible  of  watering  places  before  un- 
dertaking a  journey ;  never  leave  camp 
without  some  food  and  water;  discount 
from  30  per  cent  to  50  per  cent  the  phys- 
ical efficiency  of  himself  and  his  animals, 
as  experienced  in  other,  cooler,  fields, 
and  abstain  from  alcoholic  drinks,  espe- 
cially when  doing  physical  labor.  Many 
cases  of  collapse  and  death  are  due  to 
alcohol  or  overestimation  of  strength. 

Great  mountains  are  a  joy  to  the  lover 
of  nature ;  they  are  an  inspiration  to  the 
artist,  and  express  grandeur  and  nobility. 
The  desert  has  no  such  spirit,  but  has  a 
wonderful  fascination,  born  of  the  im- 
pressiveness  of  magnificent  distance, 
limitless  sky,  and  the  infinite  patience  of 
an  unbreakable  calm. 


